


...Makes for Strange Bedfellows

by NickelModelTales



Category: Original Work
Genre: Break Up, College, Dating, F/M, Falling In Love, Flirting, Hypnotism, Politics, Porn With Plot, Radio, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-16
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:48:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 17,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26502397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NickelModelTales/pseuds/NickelModelTales
Summary: On a college campus, a conservative and liberal spar on the airwaves.  Later, the liberal is accidentally hypnotized and their rivalry is thrown in an unexpected, sexy new direction.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 14





	1. A Conservative Solution

**Author's Note:**

> I am in the middle of a big story, set in the Roman Empire. But its currently election season in the United States, and a flash of inspiration hit me. I’ll be heading back to Ancient Rome once this posts…

**_Washington and Jefferson College_ **

**_WNJR Radio Station_ **

**_September 18 th, 2004_ **

“Hey, hey! Good to see you, John!” Colleen smiles at me.

I grin back. Colleen’s a sweet girl. A little chunky for my tastes, but still, she’s got a nice face. And I like how she does her hair.

Colleen and I are sitting in Broadcast Studio C. The radio nerds call this room a “studio,” but its really just a conference room with sound-muffling curtains nailed to the walls and a table in the room’s center. There are five chairs at the table, each with a 1970’s-era microphone pointing at them. The door is soundproofed. There are no windows, but the florescent lighting is bright enough. Mounted above us, the electric ON THE AIR sign is off.

Colleen assumes the head chair, the one with the ancient control panel. WNJR doesn’t use engineers, so the hosts of every show have to double as their own tech people. Colleen gestures, indicating that I’m to sit to her right.

Appropriate.

As I settle into my seat, Colleen swivels to face me. “Uh… Listen, John,” she says, looking somewhat embarrassed, “I, er, need you to sign a waiver before we go the air.”

I blink. “I’m that offensive?”

“Oh, no, no, no,” Colleen assures me. “Last week, one of the guys they interviewed on the ‘ _Later Skater_ ’ show was dropping F-bombs non-stop. It was all ‘ _fuck this_ ’ and ‘ _fuck that_ ’ and whatever. WNJR got hit with FCC fines like you wouldn’t believe. College Administration nearly had a cow.” She hands me a document and a clipboard and a pen. “Here, just read this and let me know if you have any questions?”

“Sure,” I allow. “Gotta guard against political correctness. I get that.”

Colleen smiles at me again, then begins getting her show notes organized. But she glances at me again.

Hmm. Is Colleen hot for me? She seems extra blushy today.

Of course, Colleen isn’t a Republican. I’ve always thought that she’s right-leaning, and one of these days, I’ll get her to down a few extra beers and then see what she **_really_** believes. She could be coaxed to join Team GOP.

But even if she joins the tribe, I’m not up for dating Colleen. My girlfriend, Madeline, **_is_** a full-throated Republican, and probably more conservative than me.

Ah, Madeline. I smile a little to myself. I like doing these radio shows because they’re good practice for when you run for office. Madeline thinks I should run for the State House when I graduate, and I’m starting to think she’s right. **_Representative John Regan._** That has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?

Colleen hums to herself as she lays out her notes. On the studio speakers, I can hear WNJR’s currently-broadcasting show, “ _DubJay Today_ ” (DubJay – WJ – William and Jefferson College, get it?) is filtering through the speakers. I glance at the clock. Its like… four minutes to our airtime!

“Hey,” I say with surprise, “where’s the liberal?”

“Mmm?” Colleen asks absently. She jots a note on her paper. “Oh.” She also glances at the clock and frowns. “Goddamnit. The College Democrats said they were sending a new chick this week. She’d better show up.”

Well, what did Colleen expect? The Dubjay College Democrats – like all Democrats – are hopelessly disorganized. They couldn’t organize a piss-all in a brewery. I shrug and set my water bottle on the table.

“ _Three minutes, to airtime, guys,_ ” the station manager’s voice warns over the control panel’s speaker.

Colleen hits the intercom button. “Thanks, Stan,” she replies, then clicks off the mic. “Goddamnit. I guess I’ll have to represent the leftie perspective.”

“Oh, its easy,” I advise. “All you gotta do is whine and blame America for everything.”

Colleen worriedly looks over her notes. “Just go easy on me, okay, John?”

Whatever. I’ve done college radio enough to know that there are three rules when you’re doing a political discussion:

  1. **_Never go easy on your opponent._** ‘Nuff said.
  2. **_Stress your talking points over and over._** There’s a conservative solution for every problem. Conservative ideology should give you five talking points for every topic. If you momentarily can think of nothing to say, just hit a talking point again.
  3. **_Liberals can’t be trusted._** I know, I know, in a debate, you’re supposed to argue in good faith. That means you should assume your opponent is honest and has good intentions. I’ve wasted too much time arguing fruitlessly with liberals, and I can tell you, “liberal” is practically synonymous with “deceitful.”



“John,” frowns Colleen, “I’m going to need you to sign that waver.”

Oh, right. I scan the waver form. Hmm. Standard legalese: _In the event that a speaker on any WNJR program uses any language or term that is in violation of FCC Indecency Statutes, said speaker will be banned from any further WNJR broadcast for the remainder of the academic year, and possibly…_ Blah blah blah. Basically, “if you cuss on the air, you’re off the air.”

“ _Thirty seconds to air, guys…!_ ” Stan warns over the intercom.

I sign the doc, then slide it across the table to Colleen. Then I grab a sip of water and pull my microphone closer.

Colleen is wearing her headphones, and watching the clock closely. When the second hand clicks up to the top of the hour, she stabs another button on her control panel.

The **_ON THE AIR_** sign lights up.

“Aaaaaand welcome, listeners, to another edition of ‘ _Political Jam!_ ’” Colleen says smoothly into the microphone. “’ _Political Jam_ ’: the only student-run show dedicated to all things politics, right here on 91.7 WNJR, the voice of W&J College. I’m your host, Colleen Barturck.”

I nod absently as Colleen prattles through the usual intro BS. This is my sixth show, so I pretty much know the drill by now.

Our hostess continues: “Today, as usual, we’re going to be talking about the issues, discussing anything and everything in the haps today. Representing the conservative viewpoint, we have one of our favorite Republicans, John Regan,” Colleen says, swiveling in her chair to look at me. “John is a Communications Major, and in his third year here at Dubjay. Hey, John!”

“Hey,” I say. “Another day in the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave, eh?”

“Amen,” agrees Colleen. She looks uncomfortable. “And… ah, this is awkward, listeners, but our guest liberal hasn’t appeared. So, er, today’s conversation might be a tad lopsided.”

Now I have to cut in. “That’s alright, Colleen,” I grin. “Fewer liberals talking is **_exactly_** what this country needs right now.”

“Er, well…” Colleen allows. “Well, let’s get to the topics of the day, huh?”

I smile. “Great.”

“Okay,” our host stalls, looking over her notes. “Well. Can we talk about Memogate?”

I feel my nostrils flare. This topic makes me angry. “Sure,” I say. “Can we talk about how Memogate is complete, total, and absolute BS?”

Colleen freezes; she’s not prepared to defend this topic.

“I mean, **_c’mon_** ,” I drawl, leaning into my microphone. “Liberals can’t stand President George W. Bush because he’s succeeding in making American stronger and respected in the world today. So what does the warped left-wing media do? Three months before the presidential election, they **_magically_** discover these memos from Bush’s past, which claim he was a traitor, or something.”

I let the anger build in my voice. “I mean, for God’s sake, what more do people need to see that the media is totally in the tank for the Democrats? They’ve stooped to manufacturing evidence, and Lord knows what’s next. When President Bush wins reelection **_in a landslide_** , he should seriously look into revoking FCC licenses.”

Colleen stares at me, her jaw slightly hinged, a _deer-in-the-headlights_ expression on her face. I feel a little bad for her, but not really. You want to defend the liberals’ positions? Then you gotta defend their crap.

“Well, um,” Colleen hems, uncertain, “I think that CBS News looked into those allegations, and-“

“They **_weren’t_** allegations,” I interrupt. “The whole story was **_fabricated!_** Dan Rather should be sued for libel.”

The door to the studio flies open. Colleen and I jump.

Rushing through the door is a young woman, another student. My mouth falls open in stunned surprise.

The woman is beautiful, absolutely beautiful beyond any description I can muster. She’s African American, with flawless, coffee-cream skin. This woman is very thin, with enormous brown eyes and delicate lips. Great tumbles of black curly hair bounce around her shoulders in a playful way. I can tell from the way she fills out her jeans that she’s got a sleek but curvy body, lined with toned muscles. A pair of nice, round breasts are bouncing away under that oversized W&J sweatshirt. The neck of the sweatshirt is torn off, revealing her collarbone.

“Hey guys!” the woman gushes, hurrying to the seat across from mine. “Hi, hi! So sorry! So sorry I’m late! I couldn’t find the studio.”

“Oh, Janice!” Colleen exclaims in relief. “One moment, listeners: Our liberal panelist, Janice Washington, has just arrived.”

“I’m so so soooooooo sorry, you guys,” this Janice pleads, flopping into a seat and pulling a microphone towards her. As she does, her sweatshirt slips a little, completely exposing one shoulder. Hot.

I’m staring.

Who is this chick? I thought I knew all the College Democrats on campus. It’s the start of a new semester; maybe she’s a transfer student?

Janice’s eyes flick in my direction, and we lock gazes.

Okay, she may be hot, but she’s The Liberal. She’s my opponent. She must be destroyed. Time to put on my poker face.

As I’m steeling myself for the coming debate, Janice smiles at me. It’s a quick, small, shy little smile.

…odd way to begin a debate…

“We were just discussing Memogate,” Colleen fills Janice in, while sliding another disclosure form across the table. Janice quickly reads the document.

I clear my throat. “Yeah,” I say. “You know, Memogate, the **_completely bogus_** scandal drummed up by the left-wing media?”

Janice scribbles her name on the bottom of her form, then coolly gazes across the table at me.

“You do agree that this whole Memogate thing is utterly ridiculous, right?” I challenge her.

“I do,” Janice tells me.

For a moment, I’m caught off-guard.

“Look, in the grand scheme of things, Memogate is a distraction,” Janice tells our listeners. “A bauble for the pundits’ amusement. It doesn’t matter.”

“So… you concur that the liberal media is lying through its teeth to smear the President?” I lean in.

“Oh, I didn’t say that,” Janice smiles playfully. “What I am saying is this: this country has some extremely deep, **_serious_** problems. We fight like children, and over what? Trivial scraps that will never be resolved and are forgotten in a week. Memogate is Exhibit A.”

I hesitate. While I’m distracted by the sheer gorgeousness of this girl, I have to keep my head in the game. She’s leading the conversation away from Memogate, where she knows that her side doesn’t have a leg to stand on. But where is she **_going?_**

My God, this woman has perfect white teeth under those rose-colored lips. Her mouth alone is a study in beauty. I bet she’s a great kisser…

“Look at America,” Janice declares, her voice growing stronger. “I mean, **_look_** at our country. What do you see? **_Vast inequalities_** , all across the fabric of our entire society. America is becoming a tiered nation, more divided than ever.”

Ah. So that’s her ploy. Democrats love to play the Us-Against-Them game, claiming that the Rich White Man is oppressing everyone else. It’s another excuse to blame America for everything.

But I’m ready for her. “Oh, riiiight,” I say. “Here we go. Liberals always divide, because they want to pit us against one another.”

Janice smiles slightly. “You would disagree that we have an income inequality problem in this country?”

Uh-oh. I’m been maneuvered into a bad position. What’s the talking point on this one?

“Well,” I say quickly, “people get paid according to their skill set, right? That’s the free market. What, you’re saying we should go to some communism system where-“

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Janice parries gently. “I’m just pointing out that we live in a country where a tiny, tiny few reap most of the rewards. Meanwhile, the rest of us work our butts off, barely making ends meet.”

Yeah, I see her angle. I’m prepared.

“So you want to, what?” I argue. “Regulate salaries, let the government decide how much private enterprise should pay people? That ain’t gonna happen.”

There. I just slapped Janice with the classic counterpunch. There is **_always_** going to be rich people and poor people, that’s just how it is. Liberals want a world where everyone is paid equally, but that’s going against human nature. She’s making a fool’s argument.

“Oh, no, no, no,” Janice exclaims, almost playfully. “I’m just saying that our society pays most of us with crumbs. Did you see US News & World Report last week? 60% of American households couldn’t pay $500 in a sudden emergency. My mom is one of them, by the way. Meanwhile, Terry S. Semel, CEO of Yahoo, is on track to earn **_$230 million this year_**. He could afford to give all of those people $500, and **_still_** be insanely wealthy.”

“Sounds like class warfare to me,” I shoot back. “America doesn’t do class warfare.”

“The rich are soaking the rest of us,” asserts Janice. “Sure sounds like economic warfare to me.”

“Guys, guys,” Colleen interrupts. “Let’s try not to focus on labels, okay? This show is about debating solutions, not name-calling.”

Janice nods. “Of course, of course,” she agrees. To me, she asks, “John, you’re a conservative, right? So why don’t we apply a conservative solution here?”

An alarm bell clangs away inside my head. **_A conservative solution?_** What’s she getting at? I sense a trap.

“Okay…” I say guardedly.

“Conservatives are all about tax policy,” Janice says thoughtfully. “So what if we restructured the US Tax Code to directly address income inequality? The Bush tax cuts went to the wealthiest and to major corporations. The richest among us. Why are we helping the people who need help the least?”

Ah ha, I see her game. Liberals hate the Bush tax cuts and any form of tax relief. Makes you wonder if they understand even the most basic principle of economics.

“So let me get this straight,” I say with a dramatic flair. “You want to massively raise taxes on the job creators of this country, the people who literally employ everyone else? What do you think is gonna happen when the job creators have less money? It means less jobs for the rest of us.”

“I’d agree with you,” Janice counters, “if we saw that the One Percent were heavily investing in business expansion and hiring more workers. They’re not. They’re so not. They’re buying more yachts and private golf clubs and third summer homes. Do you read Forbes or Barrons’?”

I wave a dismissive hand. “I don’t think that-“

“No, I’m actually asking,” Janice presses. “Do you read Forbes or Barrons’?”

My heart skips a beat. “Uh… no.”

“Well, you should. Those newspapers track the richest Americans, and rank them. Like some kind of sick beauty pageant. When I look at the headlines, I don’t see news stories about how the superwealthy aren’t putting up capital to build a new computer chip factory in Wisconsin or West Virginia. But I do see news stories about how Wall Street is doubling CEO stock options. Its obscene!”

I shift in my chair. I’m losing this debate, damnit. Time to go on offense.

“So what’s your solution?” I demand. “You’re for raising taxes, that much is certain.”

“I’m for **_rebalancing_** taxes,” Janice chides me. She uses her slender fingers to brush a lock of curly hair from her beautiful eyes. “Workers who put in sixty hours and never get a vacation, workers who are below the $50,000 income line should **_never_** pay federal taxes. Workers like my mom. And those who earn below $100,000 should pay five percent of their income. Workers below $150,000 should pay ten percent, workers below $200,000 should pay fifteen percent, and so on. Maximum cap on thirty percent.”

Janice is rattling off these numbers without any notes or anything. I’m stunned. Is she making this shit up on-the-fly?

“Interesting,” Colleen remarks. “So, your idea is that…”

“…we’d have an inverted pyramid tax design,” Janice finishes. “The poorest among us, those who need the most help, would get the most breathing room. Then, as individuals rise higher up the economic ladder, their responsibility to society increases. The richer you are, the more you pay proportionally.”

Aw, crap. We in the College Republicans like to joke that every liberal plan is hopelessly complicated. But this is a bumper-sticker scheme which is pretty easy for the common man to follow.

 ** _Shit_** , what do I do? I’m on this show to refute fruity, left-wing ideas. I gotta tear Janice down, somehow. How? How???

“Waitaminute, waitaminute,” I interject. “You’re saying that poor people would pay… nothing?”

“People under $50,000,” replies Janice. “Which is over 55% of the country, by the way.”

“Look,” I protest, “everyone has to pay **_something_** in taxes. Right? Or else, people are getting something for nothing.”

“Besides, I think some poor people already pay nothing in federal taxes, right?” Colleen ventures.

God bless Colleen. She’s right!

“Folks under the poverty line can apply to be excused from income tax,” allows Janice. “But that’s assuming they know how to fill out the IRS paperwork. I’m talking about **_automatically exempting_** a larger group of people with no paperwork at all. Simpler, with low taxes. This is a conservative solution.” She flashes a confident smile at me.

As Janice speaks, she shifts her weight in her chair. Her neckline falls a little lower, and I can see the entirety of her graceful neck. Oh, I bet she looks **_great_** naked and…

**_Focus!_ **

I squeeze my eyes shut to concentrate. “You can’t have a country where the rich people are paying taxes to support poor people,” I say firmly.

“Why not?” Janice asks immediately.

My brain jams. A million possible responses tumble through my mind. None sound very good. I know I’m right on the merits of this argument, but… but… but… Uh…

 ** _GODDAMNIT!_** Why can’t I think?

A horrible silence fills the studio as Janice and Colleen watch me turn red. We’re broadcasting dead air right now.

I open my eyes, and immediately, my gaze falls on my liberal opponent. Janice is watching me expectantly.

Is she a C cup? I really wanna know.

**_Shit!_ **

“Because… even poor people have to pay taxes!” I blurt out.

“Oh, so you’re in favor of imposing taxes on poor people,” observes Janice. “Not very conservative.”

“But… your idea…” I flounder, “well, its just ** _fucking stupid!_** ”

Colleen’s eyes widen with horror, and immediately, I know I’ve fucked up. Big time. I feel the blood drain from my cheeks.

“We, um…” Colleen says into her microphone, “…we have to go to a commercial.”

She pushes a button, and the **_ON THE AIR_** sign goes dead.

***** ***** *****


	2. The Phi Delta Mu Semester Kick-Off Bash

I dread going to the Commons Café, the biggest dining hall on campus. But I gotta face the music sooner or later, right?

At our usual table, I find Kit and Goober, two good friends in the CRs (College Republicans). They’re engrossed in a passionate discussion. They’re **_always_** engrossed in a passionate discussion.

But when I set my tray down next to Goober, my two friends instantly shut up.

Okay, before you go getting all offended… Goober’s real name is Nathaniel Browne, about as WASPy a name as you can get. His family is pretty rich, I gather, and you can tell because he always wears the newest stuff from the J Crew catalogue. But we CRs nicknamed him “Goober” because he’s from West Virginia, and, well, we just like ripping on him. That’s how me and my friends roll.

Goober is a good-looking guy, tall and lanky. He should have been a basketball player; he’d have his choice of all the women. But his heart is in politics, and he wants to be elected President of the CRs this year, grab a staffer’s job on President Bush’s reelection campaign, and then work in the White House after graduation. He’ll do it, too. You watch!

Kit is sort of Goober’s physical opposite; she’s short, squat, and sorta got this frog-like face. But everyone in the CRs respects her because she’s crazy smart. **_Crazy_** smart. If Kit had the money, she’d be at Harvard or Yale, not here at DubJay. She and I get along okay, and we see eye-to-eye on pretty much everything in politics. I just wish she wasn’t so high-strung all the time.

Kit and Goober exchange a long glance then frown at me.

Aw, shit. They heard me on “ _Political Jam_ ” this afternoon.

“How bad?” I groan, dipping my first French fry into ketchup.

“It wasn’t… that bad,” Goober offers.

“Dude!” retorts Kit. “It was fucking awful! You got owned, John.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe you fell for the old class warfare ploy. Liberals love that trick.”

I scowl, and gulp down a few more fries.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Goober tries to soothe me. “No-one listens to that stupid show, anyway.”

“Thanks,” I mutter.

I want to believe Goober… but I know he’s lying. I’m a Communications Major, for fuck’s sake. I study how people express themselves.

Besides, I already know: All the CRs were listening to “ _Political Jam._ ” Even my girlfriend, Madeline.

Aw, Jesus, Madeline! I forgot about her! **_Fuck._** What’s she gonna say?

“So, who was the liberal chick they paired you up with?” Kit asks me, lifting her cheeseburger. “Jessica Washington?”

“ ** _Janice_** Washington. I’d never seen her before,” I admit. For a moment, Janice’s beautiful face and trim, alluring body swim before my eyes.

“She’s a College Dem?” Goober asks. “I thought I knew all the Dems on campus.”

“Not sure,” I say.

“Y’shoulda affed Colle’en ‘bout ‘er,” lectures Kit, her mouth full.

“Okay, okay, okay,” I scowl.

In a flash of anger, I can't help but think, _Goddamn Janice Washington, that fucking bitch!_ Already I can see how the whole academic year is going to play out. I'm gonna be the chump who got spanked by a first-timer on Colleen's show. People remember these things, you know. I remember Ed Crawley, CR President the year I was a freshman. Ed got flattened when he ran for Student Class President, and the stink of Loser never washed off him. Even today, the CR's remember Ed's name and snicker.

I swear, if I ever run into Janice again on campus...

"You know what you should have said," Kit lectures me. "You shoulda-"

“Can we change the subject?” I snap.

My friends shrug. And then Goober turns to Kit. “So any word from the Bush people?" he asks. "Are they sending POTUS or the VP into Pittsburgh for the campaign?”

Pittsburgh is the nearest city to DubJay. Goober has this fantasy that President Bush can win Pennsylvania.

“Uh-uh,” Kit mutters, wiping her mouth with a napkin. “Not that I’ve heard. All the campaign activity is out in Ohio.”

“Damnit,” sighs Goober. His brow furrows. “I guess I could drive out there, if they needed me.”

“Whoa, dude,” Kit says. “Calm down. Get elected Prez of the CRs, **_then_** go and work for the Bush people. In that order.”

“Who else is running?” Goober asks.

“Can we talk about anything else?” I say suddenly. “Just not politics?”

My friends stare at me, slightly offended.

“I mean,” I mumble, “Jesus, you guys talk politics, like, nonstop.”

“We’re in the **_conservative movement_** ,” Kit exclaims, explaining this to me as if I’m a three-year-old. “We eat, breathe, live, and shit politics. Remember?”

There’s a moment of tension as Kit and I glare at one another.

Then my friend backs down. “Aw, forget it,” Kit shrugs. “Everyone has their off-days.” She takes another huge bite of cheeseburger.

I swirl a French fly in my ketchup. “Hey, are both of you guys going to the Phi Delta Mu Semester Kick-Off Bash?”

Goober nods.

“Sure. I’ll be there,” Kit replies.

There’s another awkward pause.

“Listen, John,” Kit says next. “I, ah, gotta move my stereo and CD collection outta my dad’s house this weekend. So… can I borrow your car?”

I hate it when one of the CRs borrow my car. Half of the time it comes back nicked, and with a barely any gas left in the tank.

“I’ll owe you a big, big favor,” promises Kit.

Whatever. “Yeah, sure,” I allow.

“Steve McHenry,” Kit says suddenly. “I think **_Steve’s_** interested in running for Prez of the CRs.”

Goober makes a face. “McHenry? He’s a sophomore. He’s token opposition. I’ll tell you who I’m really worried about, though…” And he and Kit are off talking about the CR election again.

I sigh. My friends are awesome, but man… sometimes, they never stop being political.

***** ***** *****

In my freshman year at Dubjay, I seriously thought about joining a fraternity. I asked around and talked with some frat brothers, but nothing really grabbed me. There were always a few well-known campus liberals among the senior brothers. I just didn’t want to pledge and be at those guys’ mercies.

No, the CR’s is where I found a comfortable gang of friends. We do fun things, like meet the local Republican congressmen, attend political fundraisers, and protest at the local appearance of any elected Democrat. Last year, we did the seven-hour drive to New York City, all to attend a taping of Rush Limbaugh’s TV show. Cool stuff.

The downside of being a conservative on a big, liberal campus like Dubjay is that you tend to feel isolated a lot. I swear, all of our professors are raging leftists, even the Econ professors! So of course most of the bubble-headed student body swallows their noxious ideology, and suddenly conservatives are outnumbered a hundred to one.

Usually, that doesn’t bother me. …but there are times when I wish I was a part of the larger crowd.

The Phi Delta Mu Semester Kick-Off Bash is one of those times. It’s the biggest party on campus, timed just after the second week of classes, just when people have figured out their schedules and kinda know what the next three months are gonna to look like. I got invited to the Bash my freshman year, and I had such an awesome time. I got pretty wasted… but it was totally worth it.

Now, after my public belly flop on “ _Political Jam_ ,” I really want to put politics aside. Just for a while. The Bash will be a good place to do that. I’ll have a few brews, complete in the Beer Pong Olympics, maybe dance with Madeline, my girlfriend. Later, after I’ve survived my hangover, I’ll go back to being a Conservative Warrior.

That sounds real nice right now.

***** ***** *****

This year, the Bash is being thrown at The Castle, the nickname we undergrads gave to the Phi Delta Mu Frat House. I swear, The Castle looks like the Addams Family mansion, just a brighter paint job and with DubJay flags hanging from the upper windows. I doubt the place has been cleaned in generations. Or could pass a building inspection.

The afternoon of the Bash, there’s already fifty students, a bonfire, and a barbeque on the front lawn. And from the ruckus inside the house, I can already tell that there’s about another five hundred people already at this party. Awesome.

I also spot some guys from my Chem II class last semester, and I pause to catch up with them.

“John Bro!” Wilkes yells as I approach. He and I high-five.

I like Wilkes. He’s a lacrosse player (I think) and he knows a bazillion dirty jokes. I like him because he’s politically incorrect.

With Wilkes is Henry… Henry… Aw, damn, I forget Henry’s last name. Henry is fatter now than he was last semester, which is really saying something. I think he’s in Phi Delta Mu…?

“Bro,” Henry greets me.

Wilkes, Henry, and me shoot the shit for a while, catching up. Wilkes actually went to Argentina over the summer, which sounds pretty cool. I should do that, someday.

While we’re talking, Henry suddenly perks up and waves at someone over my shoulder. I turn around, and am pleasantly surprised to see Kit coming up the walk.

I’m kinda pissed at Kit right now. She borrowed my car, like we agreed, and sure enough, she brought it back with no gas in the tank. Oh, she also smoked her disgusting cigarettes while behind the wheel! The car still reeks!

From the way Kit ignores my eye contact, I can tell: She knows I’m pissed.

“Kit baby!” Henry beams. “You came!”

Are… Kit and Henry an item? I’m guessing no, from Kit’s expression.

“Hey Henry,” she replies coolly.

“Oh, man, I was hoping you’d come!” Henry enthuses. “I was telling the brothers about what you did in Intro Psych last year!”

I’m surprised. Kit never talks about her classes. Only politics.

“What?” I ask, my eyebrows rising. “What did she do?”

“Kit here knows **_hypnosis!_** ” Henry crows. “Fuck, yeah! Can you believe it?”

I’m sure I heard that wrong. “Wuuuuut?” I deadpan.

Kit looks embarrassed. “Um, yeah. Yeah,” she mutters.

“She’s a total wizard at it,” declares Henry, apparently unaware that girls can’t be wizards. “Like, I volunteered to get hypnotized, and she totally had me convinced me that I was Michael Jordan!” He belly-laughs at the memory. “I totally did! I really fucking thought that I was Air Jordan himself!”

What the hell? I turn to stare at Kit, disbelieving.

“Its true, its true,” she grumbles, thrusting her hands into her pockets. “My dad, he’s a stage hypnotist. I had to go to his shows a lot. So I learned everything from him.”

“Don’t… hypnotists make crazy money?” I ask stupidly.

“The Vegas guys do,” scoffs Kit. “The little guys like my dad? He earns $600 a gig and he only performs four nights a month.” She rolls her eyes. “It’s a shitty living. He really should have done something better with his life.”

Forgetting our little feud, I gaze at Kit with newfound wonder and understanding. She’s never spoken about her past before. Who knew she was a hypnotist?

“What?” Kit asks me, defensive.

“Nothing,” I say quickly. “You never cease to amaze me, girl.”

Kit’s not amused. “Looook into my eeeeyes, John,” she drawls, adopting a Dracula stare. I instinctively flinch and look away.

Henry laughs again. “She’s good! She’ll getcha, if you let her.”

The fat kid mock-punches Kit in the arm. “Listen, I talked to the Bash party chairmen. Can’t you do your hypnotism on some of us? Just for fun?”

Kit looks unhappy. “Aw, gee,” she says in a flat, mocking tone. “Hypnotizing drunken frat boys… **_Just_** what I was hoping to do when I got out of bed this morning.”

“Aw c’mon, Kit,” pleads Henry. He puts an arm around Kit’s shoulders. “C’mon, I’ll introduce you to the chairs. They’d love it if you do your hypno-stuff.” And before she can protest, Henry propels Kit into the busy frat house.

Wilkes and I share a surprised expression. “Henry’s just weird,” Wilkes says by way of explanation. And then he shrugs.

***** ***** *****

After talking with Wilkes a little more, I push my way into The Castle, looking for beer and my girlfriend. Madeline will be here somewhere. I wish she waited for me so we could have shown up together.

On The Castle’s ground floor, there’s a living room, a dining room, an entertainment area, a pool hall, and one big room that the brothers never properly used for anything. All of these spaces are **_packed_** with college kids, all drinking, laughing, talking, swapping jokes, burping, and dancing to the loud music. The A/C is busted, so its hot, and the stench of sweat is pretty ripe. People are stripping off their extra layers.

I admire a few of the girls as they peel off their extra clothes, but I push my way through the crowd. At one point, I try to slip between the dining room and kitchen. But a chick with her back to me steps in my way at the last moment!

“Hey,” I say with annoyance. “’cuse me!”

The chick swivels around to face me, and I almost shit myself; its Janice, Janice Washington! The liberal who spanked me on “ _Political Jam!_ ” For a second, my eyes connect with hers, and I’m again stunned by her beauty. Her soft, brown eyes gaze up into mine.

“Hey there,” Janice says, a slight grin on her face. She’s holding an extra-large beer in a red plastic cup.

Before I can stop myself, I glance down at Janice’s body. She’s wearing a thin, cropped baby tee shirt, which hugs her big chest very tightly, but shows off her graceful arms and midriff. Her jean shorts are cut high, letting you see all of her shapely legs, and her open-toed sandals let you see all of her cute, tiny toes. Janice pulled up her black hair, but lots of bouncy, rebel strands bob about her face and head.

“Good to see you, dude!” cracks Janice. “You wanna beer?”

Is she mocking me?

I remember that sweet-honey voice, and suddenly PTSD from the radio show slaps me across the face. _This is the bitch who humiliated you before of the whole school,_ I grimly remind myself.

“I’ll get it myself,” I say gruffly.

Janice shrugs slightly. “’kay,” she replies.

“Can I get by?” I ask pointedly.

The beautiful liberal – remember that, she’s a **_liberal_** – blushes a little, then scoots aside. “Sorry,” she mumbles.

I elbow my way past her, trying to push Janice Washington out of my thoughts.

Strangely, I’m angry that Janice is at the Bash. This was supposed to be **_my night_** to relax, **_my night_** to let my hair down, **_my night_** to unplug! Why’d the liberal bitch have to show up and ruin everything? Is she gonna destroy my whole academic year?

***** ***** *****

After prowling The Castle’s ground floor, I bump into Goober. He’s got his arm around a pretty chick that I don’t know, and the two are clearly into one another. If I’d arrived five minutes later, they’d be snogging and I’d never get his attention.

“Hey man,” I say to Goober.

“Hey,” Goober responds, annoyed that I’m intruding.

“Hey, you seen Madeline?” I ask, getting right to the point.

“Oh, yeah,” Goober tells me. “Upstairs. With the Clique.”

The Clique is a club within a club; a bunch of the CR women banded together so often, we just started calling them “The Clique.” Kit was never interested in joining their ranks, but Madeline might be the Clique’s unofficial leader. Its one of the reasons I was attracted to her in the first place.

“Thanks, bro,” I tell Goober, and immediately push my way towards the grand staircase. The moment I turn away, Goober goes back to grinning and flirting with his lady friend. I’m forgotten immediately.

***** ***** *****

The staircase is packed with drunken people, so ascending is like pushing my way up a mudslide. When I finally get on the second floor, I look about. Most of the bedrooms up here have closed doors, and you can hear the sounds of people having sex, muffled behind the walls. Lucky bastards. I crane my neck about.

Jesus, there’s a lot of bedrooms up here. **_And_** there’s another floor above this one! How big is this house, anyway?

After casually snooping about and determining that Madeline is not on this level, I climb the stairs up to the third floor. That staircase is even narrower, but is stuffed with people all the same.

Phew…! Someone lit up some really stinky weed! Gross.

***** ***** *****

Okay, now I’m on the third floor. The lights are dimmer up here, and it smells of mildew. Like the floor below me, most of the bedroom doors are shut.

Waaaaaaaaaaaitaminute… Yes! I hear Madeline’s laughing voice. There’s a bedroom all the way down the hall. The door is halfway open. Madeline’s in there.

As I move down the corridor, I pick up on Madeline’s conversation. “…oh, that’s not the worst part,” she is saying. “Not the worst part at all.”

“I dunno,” the voice of Ashley Myers replies dryly. “It was all pretty bad.”

Ashley is also a CR. That means Madeline and Ashley are also probably with Erica White and Rebecca (“Bex”) Morgan. The full Clique.

“Oh, no. Listen to this!” Madeline insists. I hear a soft beep. And then…

Now I hear a man’s recorded voice: “ _You can’t have a country where the rich people are paying taxes to support poor people._ ”

“ _Why not?_ ” asks a woman on the recording.

I freeze in my tracks.

There’s a silence in the recording, and I hear Ashley snicker. “Oh Jesus, John had nothing to say to that?” she drawls.

Oh, God. This is the recording of me on “ _Political Jam!_ ” My insides twist.

“Wait for it…!” snarks Madeline.

“ _Because…_ ” I hear my recorded voice protest. I sound confused. “ _…even poor people have to pay taxes!_ ”

Janice responds: “ _Oh, so you’re in favor of imposing taxes on poor people. Not very conservative._ ”

I cringe as I hear myself say, “ _But… your idea… well, its just **fucking stupid!**_ ”

Ashley gasps. “John said that in a **_live broadcast?_** ”

“Yep,” Madeline affirms. I hear another soft beep, and the recording stops.

Now I know what has happened. On the day of the broadcast, Madeline knew I would be on the air. She tuned in to listen, or maybe downloaded the broadcast from WNJR’s website. Then she put the recording on her iPod. But now **_my girlfriend_** is carrying around the recording of the worst experience of my life!

I’m torn between scalding humiliation and rage. What the fuck???

“Oh shit,” Ashley says, and there’s the flick of a cigarette lighter. “I always knew John was a lousy public speaker… but **_damn._** ”

“He’s for shit,” agrees Erica.

“John used to brag about running for State Representative after graduation,” Madeline says, disgust in her voice. “Its one of the reasons I wanted to fuck him. But after listening to this…”

“I know!” Ashley exclaims. “Can you imagine John in a debate?” She imitates my voice. “ _’Its just fucking stupid!’_ Shit.”

“The boy’s got no future in politics,” agrees Erica. “Hey, can I bum a cigarette?”

“John’s got his head in the right place,” Madeline says thoughtfully. “He’s pretty conservative… Although…”

“What?” Ashley asks.

“Eh,” grunts Madeline. “He can be wishy-washy on some of that liberal shit. He still hasn’t put up a Bush / Cheney sign in his dorm, you know.”

“Whaddya gonna do?” Erica wants to know.

“Oh, dump John, of course,” says Madeline. “You remember Rod Waters, graduated last year? Well, he’s working on the Bush campaign already, posted to their Ohio office. He says they can hire me part-time to phonebank. **_And_** …” Her voice becomes playful. “…he’s siiiiiiiingle.”

“I remember Rod,” Ashley laughs. “He’s a hottie. You should hit that.”

All the Clique laughs.

And I feel my heart crumble.

***** ***** *****

I’ve gotta get out of here. Surprised at the hurt I’m feeling, I turn and stalk back down the hallway.

Part of me wants to burst into that bedroom, jab an indignant finger into Madeline’s smug face, and really tell her off. Yell and scream at her for being such a fucking bitch. How fucking dare she???

But… No. Madeline’s with The Clique now. She’s got backup. Those bitches would rip me to pieces.

As much as I want to scream at Madeline, now isn’t the time. I fume.

You know what? Fuck this party. Fuck the Bash. Fuck everyone!

I’m outta here. There’s a good billards joint in down. It costs $20 for a table, and I know the bartender. He’ll sell me a beer or two. I’ll go there, shoot some pool for a while, get a little drunk. In the morning, **_then_** I’ll call up Madeline and tell her what a traitorous bitch she is.

I make my way back down the stairs, feeling my anger simmer and boil.

***** ***** *****


	3. Kit’s Show

As I finish descending The Castle’s staircase and reach the ground floor, I hear voices in the backyard. Hey, half the partiers are gone! Did the cops come by or something?

No, the kegs are still on-tap. Plus, I hear a hearty burst of laughter from the backyard. The party has moved outside.

I’m tempted to ask someone what’s going on. Over in the corner, there’s Goober, happily sucking face with his new lady friend. Man, neither of them are coming up for air. There’s no disturbing Goober now.

Fuck it. I pause long enough to help myself to a beer, then I wander out to the backyard.

***** ***** *****

When I emerge from The Castle, I have no idea what’s going on. Most of the partiers are gathered in a vast semicircle, sitting on the lawn, and roaring with laugher. A lot of them are pointing and snapping pictures. But at what?

Everyone seems to be facing about a dozen guys, all sitting shoulder-to-shoulder-to-shoulder in metal folding chairs. They have fairly blank looks on their faces, as if they aren’t aware of so many people laughing at them. I see Fat Henry, sitting in the center of the row.

“Okay, okay, okay!” a woman shouts from the center of this commotion.

I squint. The woman is Kit! She’s standing straight and tall, strutting before the seated guys. She acts like she’s the coach before a football game or something.

“Everyone paying attention?” Kit hollers. She raises her hand, then snaps her fingers once.

Immediately, all the seated guys leap to their feet, clutching their butts. The audience howls with laughter.

“What is it?” Kit asks once the guffaws die down. She’s talking to Bruce Harwood, one of the guys. “What happened?”

“My chair!” wails Bruce, a confuses look on his face. “My chair pinched my butt!”

More wild laughter.

What the fuck is this?

I mosey over to a nearby kid that I don’t know. “What’s going on?” I ask him.

“Oh,” the kid smirks. “Those frat guys in the chairs? They’ve been hypnotized. Kit Whats-her-name knows how to do hypnosis, and she just put them all under.” He adds, “Its fucking hilarious.”

Oh! Right. Henry was serious about Kit doing her hypnosis thing, wasn’t he? Now that I look, Henry is one of the hypnotized volunteers, clutching his butt with a dazed expression on his face.

Huh. I’ve never seen hypnosis before, outside of that “Scooby Doo” where sexy Daphne got mesmerized. As a kid, I thought hypnotized Daphne was sexy. But I’ve never seen the real thing.

“My guys on stage, listen to me!” Kit yells, making her little voice heard above the crowd. “Sit back down, please!”

All the hypnotized guys obediently assume their chairs.

I watch Kit, impressed. She’s confident, in command. Her voice is firm and loud, like she’s used to being obeyed. I’m impressed. I’ve never seen this side of her before.

“Guys,” Kit bellows, “look at me!”

As one, the hypnotized men stare blankly at her.

“Sleep!” orders Kit.

As one, the frat guys close their eyes. They flop over the chairs, each becoming rag dolls. Its like they’re under a sleeping spell or something.

Heh. As he conks out, Fat Henry plants his face into the lap of the football player sitting next to him. That’s pretty funny. Despite my foul mood, I find myself laughing a little.

The audience cracks up, but the hypnotized guys seem completely oblivious.

“Okay, okay,” Kit shouts, addressing the crowd. “Before we really start the show, can I have some extra chairs set up, right here on the stage?”

Now, there’s isn’t actually a stage, just the area of the lawn where the hypnotized victims are seated. But a couple of Henry’s frat brothers hurriedly add more empty folding chairs. There really is a theatrical quality to this performance.

“Cool!” yells Kit, now addressing the audience. “The reason I asked for more chairs is this: Whenever you hypnotize a bunch of people on stage, there is **_always_** a few people in the audience who go under too! So, right now, if you are in the audience, if you can hear the sound of my voice, and if you are feeling very, very relaxed, you will find yourself following and obeying my commands without any hesitation!”

Kit pauses for effect. “In a moment, I will snap my fingers! When I do, everyone who is hypnotized in the audience will open their eyes, rise up, and come to sit in a chair on the stage! You cannot resist!”

There is a deathly silence. Kit raises her right arm and snaps, exactly once.

And then, like sleepwalkers, perhaps a half-dozen people stand up. With their blank gazes facing forward and their arms dangling limply at their sides, they obediently make their way onto the “stage.” The crowd whispers and giggles with excitement as they hypnotized people pass by.

I stare. Holy shit! Hypnotism can whack out people without them knowing it?

Shit. I’m glad I wasn’t here when Kit began-

Oh, wait. Wait! My heart thuds.

There, out in the audience, walking forward with no expression whatsoever, is Janice Washington. The girl moves like a robot, automatically obeying the commands Kit has placed in her head. I can’t help but notice the soft bounce of Janice’s breasts, or her ass cheeks pressing against the seat of her tiny shorts.

**_Fuck me!_ **

Sexy Janice Washington got hypnotized?

 ** _Now_** I’m really interested.

***** ***** *****

With a coordination of an air traffic controller, Kit directs all of the hypnotized people from the audience into a chair. Its like these folks are zombies and can’t think for themselves. One-by-one, they are all placed and they sit down.

I do a quick head count. There are twelve hypnotized frat guys, plus six new people from the audience. Four girls, two more guys. Janice is seated right on the end, and she is the hypnotized person closest to me.

“Now, all my new people on stage,” Kit declares, rising up to her full height, “ ** _SLEEP!_** ”

Like the frat boys before, the new arrivals close their eyes and become limp and lifeless. I watch as Janice folds forward, her torso resting atop her legs. Her thick, curly brown hair tumbles over her knees.

“Very good, very good,” praises Kit, walking before her sleeping volunteers. As she scans the crowd, her eyes flick in my direction, and for brief second, Kit and I make eye contact. She grins at me. I stupidly gape back.

“Now, my hypnotized people on stage,” Kit bellows, “in a moment, I will clap my hands. When I do, you will all awaken and realize that you are all in a competition for the Macarena Championship of the World! You will jump to your feet and shake your booty like never before, because you are determined to win this prize. You’ll continue to dance until I tap you on the shoulder; then, you’ll return to your chair and fall into a deep, deep hypnotic sleep. Ready…?”

There’s a moment of suspense as everyone in the audience stares at Kit. Will this Macarena thing work?

Jesus, I can’t look away.

Kit claps her hands, just once.

As one, the hypnotized people all leap to their feet. They begin dancing furiously, wiggling their butts and flailing their arms. There’s no music, but it doesn’t matter. The dancers close their eyes, and a look of determination washes over each of their faces.

**_Omigod!_ **

I bust a gut laughing, and the whole audience is roaring along with me. God ** _DAMN_** , is this funny! I mean, look at Henry! That chubby dude should never ever **_ever_** dance, because his impressive gut is flopping away like a fish out of water! That’s a lot of fat, hanging out there, jiggling away in the air. But from Henry’s furious expression, he doesn’t seem to care.

Everyone else is possessed by the same fierce determination. I really have to laugh at those bulked-up football players, doing their clumsy best to win this dance contest. Is someone taping this show? I could watch this every day, and it will never get old.

But then… my eyes fall on Janice.

Fuck me! The girl can **_move_**. Janice sways her tight little hips, bobbing about in perfect rhythm. Her perky ass flexes and relaxes to the imaginary beat… oh, that’s hot. Her tits dance with her, straining against the overworked tee shirt. She’s graceful and sexy. Like, it’s obvious that she took some intense dance classes in her youth.

As I watch Janice, my laughter fades. Maybe I’m feeling betrayed by Madeline, but… damn. Janice is hot. Scorching hot. Playmate hot. _I-want-to-see-her-naked_ hot.

 _I-want-to-fuck-her_ hot.

I’m getting such a boner.

Kit is now moving among the hypnotized dancers, tapping them lightly on the shoulders. One-by-one, their faces go blank, and they mindlessly walk back to their chairs. When she taps Janice, a piece of me grieves to watch the liberal eye candy obediently return to her seat.

To no-one’s surprise, Kit saves Henry for last. He’s the funniest of the dancers, really putting it all out there. Jesus Christ, the dude is sweating.

Kit touches Henry on the shoulder, and Big Boy plods back to his chair.

“My hypnotized people… **_sleep!_** ” shouts Kit.

The stage subjects drop back into unconsciousness, and the audience applauds like crazy.

***** ***** *****

The show rolls on. Fuck me, Kit is amazing as an entertainer! I really can’t get over it. Its like the friend I’ve known all my time here at DubJay had a secret identical twin, and now that twin is out and on the loose, performing like P. T. Barnum. Unbelievable.

After the Macarena contest, Kit adopts an almost-chatty tone with her audience. “Let’s talk to some of the volunteers, shall we?”

She makes a big show of waking up Fat Henry and interviewing him. Impressively, Henry doesn’t remember anything, and doesn’t think he is hypnotized. “You go on thinking that, honey,” Kit tells him, before putting Henry back to sleep with a snap of her fingers. The delighted roar of the audience is impressive, indeed.

Kit wanders down the line of hypnotized people, taking her time. She pauses before the conked-out Janice.

“Her!” the audience trills. “Interview her!”

Kit shrugs, then places a hand on Janice’s small shoulder. “To the person I’m touching right now,” she announces, “in a moment, I will snap my fingers. You will awaken, remembering nothing!”

Snap! Janice sits up, her big eyes fluttering open.

“Hey girl,” Kit says generously, “step forward, will you?”

Blinking, Janice obeys. As she stands, she looks about the lawn, confused.

“Tell me,” crows Kit, “who are you please?”

“Janice Washington,” the hypnotized girl responds in a plain voice. She smiles. “Freshman class.”

Freshman! **_That’s_** why none of the CRs knew who Janice was.

On the “stage,” I see Kit’s eyes widen, just a little. She glances across the audience, and for a second, she locks her eyes with mine. Kit and I exchange a flash of unspoken communication:

Kit: _This is the chick who did the radio show with you?_

Me: _Yep._

Looking amused, Kit turns back to Janice. “Tell me, Janice, do you think you can be hypnotized?”

Janice shrugs. “Uh… probably not?” She sounds uncertain.

“Janice, look into my eyes,” Kit commands.

The beautiful freshman obeys. Immediately her smile fades and her eyes soften. Its like Kit has Janice in the Dracula-stare. She can’t resist.

I’m surprised that my erection is growing even harder. It is just me… or is the hypnotized Janice amazingly superhot?

“Janice, love,” intones Kit. “You will find that whenever I say the expression, ‘ _I know you like getting hypnotized,_ ’ you must respond with the sentence, ‘ _Getting hypnotized is awesome._ ’ This reaction will be automatic and immediate, and you will not be able to resist. After speaking this phrase, you will be unaware you have just obeyed a hypnotic command.” She pauses. “I know you like getting hypnotized, Janice.”

“Getting hypnotized is awesome,” Janice replies dully.

The audience murmurs, impressed.

“Yes, that’s right,” Kit smiles, still holding Janice in her steely gaze. “Now, sweetheart, you’ll also discover that for tonight only, any time I sprinkle pixie dust on your left hand, it will float up into the air, all on its own! It will stay in the air until I tap it, and then, at that time, it will return to your control. You will be unaware of anything happening to your hand in the meanwhile.”

As she’s speaking, Kit mimes sprinkling something over Janice’s hand. And immediately, Janice’s hand begins to climb up in the air. Its like an invisible string is tied around the freshman’s wrist, and God is pulling it upward. Janice is completely unaware.

Kit grins. “And now… awaken!” she orders, snapping her fingers before Janice’s glassy eyes.

The beautiful young woman blinks, then looks about. Hilariously, she hasn’t noticed her left hand, floating slightly above her head.

The audience laughs politely, then applauds. I join in.

“Okay, baby, have a seat,” purrs Kit, directing her subject back to her chair. Janice obediently sits down. “Now, **_SLEEP!_** ”

Once again, Janice flops into a deep sleep. Her hand remains skybound, so Kit gently taps it. The hand plops next to Janice, and it is still.

***** ***** *****

With the show off and running, Kit now guides her hypnotized people through a series of adventures, like exploring an imaginary cage filled with bats, bats that tickle you. Later, she convinces her hypnotized people that the whole audience is stark naked, and its fun to see who cringes and who lustfully stares. (Janice cringes; Henry stares.)

As I’m watching Kit, I find myself listening to **_what_** she says, and **_how_** she says it. The Communications Major in me goes to work analyzing her language.

Kit the Hypnotist speaks in short, clearly-understood directives: “ _You now speak Martian._ ” / “ _You are a famous politician, giving a speech._ ” / “ _Upon awakening, you will sing ‘O Suzanna’ as loudly as you can._ ” She never gives any options; the hypnotized person has to do what she says. There’s no room for misinterpretation.

She also gives specific signals to start or stop activity. “ _When I snap my fingers…_ ” / “ _Whenever you hear me say the word ‘hypnosis,_ ”… / “ _When next you wake up…_ ”

Finally, Kit is talking directly to her subjects’ imaginations. In my Intro Psych course, I remember something about how a person’s imagination has no rational boundaries. So when Kit programs one of her hypnotized subjects to believe that they are Lady Gaga or a pro wrestler or Godzilla, the hypnotized subject’s imagination takes over. They think what they are imagining is totally real.

This is fascinating. Maybe I should become a hypnotist! Fuck politics.

***** ***** *****

After about an hour of show, Kit laughs aloud. She’s just put her hypnotized people back to sleep. “We’re about to wrap this up…” she announces.

“No!” the audience cries. “No, no! More!”

“Okay, one more,” allows Kit. She’s feigning tiredness… but you can tell she’s loving the attention. “Hmm…”

Kit’s eyes sweep over the audience, and for a second, she locks gazes with me. “I know, I know,” she chuckles to herself. “But before we do the Grand Finale…”

Then, with a showman’s flair, Kit parades back to Janice, who is sitting in her chair, limp in a deep trance.

“Janice, honey, wakey wakey,” commands Kit, snapping her fingers. “Stand up please?”

The beautiful freshman comes to life, standing up as before.

Immediately, Kit starts sprinkling “pixie dust” over Janice’s hand. And that hand begins rising up in the air, just as before. The crowd chuckles, as Janice is unaware.

“You’re a freshman, right, Janice?” Kit prods. “Tell me, have you had a chance to join any groups on campus?”

“Oh,” Janice responds, her mind still foggy. “Um, just the College Democrats.”

“ ** _SLEEP,_** ” cries Kit, and Janice closes her eyes once more. Janice’s left hand is still hanging in midair.

“Janice, my friend,” Kit says grandly, putting one hand on Janice’s narrow shoulder, “when next you wake up, and for the rest of this party, you are totally convinced that you are a **_Republican_** , a rock-solid conservative Republican. You are excited to be a Republican, and will tell anyone who will listen why the Republican party is the best fit for leading America. Nod once if you understand.”

Janice robotically nods.

The audience laughs quietly, and I can tell they’re excited to see what happens next. Even the other College Dems in the audience look amused.

At the same time, I’m dumbfounded. Janice will awaken, thinking she’s a member of the GOP? Oh my God!

From across the lawn, Kit flashes me a smirk, and I know: she’s hypnotizing Janice to switch to Team Elephant for me. I’m actually kinda touched.

“Awaken, now!” cries Kit, snapping her fingers loudly. Janice straightens, briefly looking disoriented.

“So, sorry, Janice, you were telling me what you’ve done since arriving on campus?” Kit prompts.

Janice jumps right back into the conversation, clearly unaware of any hypnotic changes placed in her mind. “Oh,” she says quickly, “I joined the College Democrats.”

Then Janice stops, and makes a face.

“What?” Kit asks her, oh-so-innocently.

“College Dems?” recoils Janice, almost gagging. “Why would I join the College Dems? I’m Republican!”

The audience giggles and murmurs excitedly.

In my pants, my hard-on for Janice gets stronger.

“Republican?” Kit asks, mock-horrified.

“Oh, I’ve always been Republican,” Janice says firmly. “Low taxes, small government, strong military defense, conservative family values… what more does America need?”

Fuck me, Janice is now the perfect woman.

“Okay,” Kit agrees. “I know you like getting hypnotized.”

Janice nods. “Getting hypnotized is awesome!”

Maybe this is how we Republicans can win the political argument, eh? We’ll let Kit hypnotize all the Democrats.

***** ***** *****

Janice is put back in her seat, then put back into a sleeping trance. Her floating hand is released from Kit’s spell.

And then Kit finishes her show with a grand finale; the hypnotized people are all convinced that they are aliens, all with different and interesting physical properties. Its pretty fucking hilarious.

At the end, Kit has her volunteers stand in a chorus line and do a group bow. The audience applauds like nuts.

“ ** _That’s our show!_** ” yells Kit, over the thunderous clapping. “ ** _Thank you, and good night!!! I know you like getting hypnotized!!!_** ”

“ ** _Getting hypnotized is awesome!!!_** ” Janice automatically yells.

**** ***** *****

Its now getting dark, and the party moves back indoors. The hypnotized people remember nothing, and their friends spend hours recounting all of their exploits. When their memory block crumbles, the look of realization (and embarrassment) on the volunteers’ faces is priceless.

I am curious as fuck to talk to Janice now. Does she still think she’s a Republican? I really wanna know. But somehow, Janice is swallowed by the crowd, and I can’t spot her. Damnit.

Well, my favorite hypnotized Democrat is in here somewhere. I’ll find her.

I poke my way about the partygoers. The Castle is so packed, you literally can’t move in any direction without bumping into someone. This party is on the verge of getting out-of-control.

***** ***** *****

After ten minutes, I still can’t locate Janice. I do, however, bump into Kit. She’s drinking beers with some mutual friends, relaxing and laughing.

“Kit!” I exclaim. “Fuck me, that was **_incredible!_** ”

My friend laughs. “Thanks, John.”

“You’ve known how to do this hypnotism stuff all along?” I can’t help but ask.

“Yeah, yeah,” nods Kit. While she’s trying to act annoyed… I can tell she’s secretly pleased with herself.

“So…” I say, stepping closer and lowering my voice a tad, “you hypnotized Janice Washington to be one of us now, eh?”

“Oh, yeah,” Kit remembers, and then grins. “Yeah, I did that for you, John-boy. Make sure you find Janice and talk with her, she’ll totally agree with you on any political topic now. And by the way, you’re welcome.”

“Eh?” I ask.

“Remember that favor I owed you?” prompts Kit. “Well, now, we’re even.” She grins and sips her beer. “Its harmless fun. You’re welcome, dude.”

I don’t know that this was how I pictured Kit paying me back, but what the hell? Talking politics with Janice now might be rewarding.

“Where is that hypnotized liberal, anyway?” Kit says, craning her neck about. “She’ll follow my suggestions all night long. But you’d better talk to her now, John, while the posthypnotics are the strongest.”

I shrug. “I don’t know where…”

“Oh, there she is,” grins Kit, and points into The Castle’s living room. There, sitting on a wide couch, is Janice and a gaggle of other freshmen women. The ladies are locked in conversation.

“C’mon, I’ll go with you,” Kit declares, and then grabs me by the arm.

***** ***** *****


	4. Janice the Republican

Janice is sitting in the middle of an old couch, like she’s a queen holding court. All about her are other freshman women, wearing expressions that are half-amused, half-horrified. The girls listen as Janice preaches.

“I’m **_telling_** you guys,” Janice says, almost in exasperation, “the War on Terror is exactly right for America! Saddam Hussein was a threat, and President Bush was right to take him out!”

“Janice…” prods a pretty freshman, also sitting on the couch, “just yesterday, you were saying that the Iraq war was unspeakably horrible!”

“Oh, I didn’t mean that,” huffs Janice. “Listen to me **_now_**. President Bush is the leader we need. America’s lucky to have him.”

“She’s so hypnotized,” giggles another freshman chick.

“You see?” Kit says to me, not without a hint of pride in her voice. “Too bad we can’t leave Janice this way.”

“Well, why not?” I have to ask.

Kit’s smile fades. “Once Janice goes to sleep – **_natural_** sleep that is – her brain will reboot. No hypnotic suggestion done in fun can remain effective after that.”

“Oh,” I mutter. “Damn.”

“I know, right?” sighs Kit. “I mean, look at Janice! She’d be a natural for our side, if we could keep her like this.”

Meanwhile, the political argument on the couch is getting heated. “So you’re telling me,” another freshman girl is saying, “that its okay for Bush to spend **_billions_** on military spending so that we can fight a made-up war half a world away, where-“

“Made-up war?” retorts Janice, offended. “Ex ** _cuse_** me? Were you not paying attention on 9/11?”

“Saddam Hussein didn’t cause 9/11!” the woman shrieks back.

“The War on Terror is **_global!_** ” Janice cries. “We gotta fight everywhere, no matter what enemy is out there!” She fixes her friends with a defiant glare. “What would President Reagan say?”

Now Janice and her friends are almost yelling at each other. Another freshman girl looks up at me and Kit, with worry in her eyes.

“Hey,” the freshman says to Kit. “This isn’t so funny anymore.”

“You’re right,” Kit admits grimly. “Okay, okay, I’ll release her.”

“Do you have to?” I moan.

Kit ignores me. She pushes her way forward, coming to stand before Janice. “Janice, baby, look into my eyes,” my hypnotist friend commands firmly.

Janice stares up at Kit, and her face goes blank. Kit’s hypnotism is powerful indeed!

Kit starts to say something, but then glances around the noisy room. All around us, people are laughing and drinking and shouting. I can tell what Kit is thinking: there’s too many distractions here.

“Come with me, baby,” orders Kit, taking Janice by the hand. “We’ll go somewhere quiet, real quick.”

“Good,” snorts one of the freshmen. “You better turn her back to what she was!”

Kit ignores the barb. Pulling Janice along behind her, she heads out of the living room. Janice follows as meekly as a baby duckling.

After staring after the two women for a second, I decide to follow them.

***** ***** *****

Kit, Janice, and I all worm our way across the party. We attract some stares, but not many. Everywhere we go is crowded and noisy. I see Kit frown as she looks about.

Then my hypnotist friend changes direction, and now she is leading Janice towards the staircase. I tag along. People shuffle out of our way, and we are soon climbing up to the second floor. I am directly behind Janice, and I find myself staring at her tight little butt in those tiny shorts. Damn, this girl must do a lot of squats. My boner is back.

The second floor is also too noisy, so we ascend up to the third floor. Its hotter up here, but impressively, the entire floor seems to be deserted. I glance down the hallway to the room where Madeline and The Clique were savagely gossiping; the room is now unoccupied.

Good. I hope Madeline is miles away. I never want to see her again.

Kit pauses to catch her breath. “Um… in here,” she says, pulling Janice and me into another bedroom.

There are two unmade twin beds in this room, plus two messy desks. The place smells like dirty laundry. Ratty curtains hang over the windows, and the peeling wallpaper must have been put up in 1974. There’s also a few porno movie posters taped on the wall. Typical frat room.

“Jesus, don’t these guys ever clean?” frowns Kit. “Ugh.” She shrugs. To me, she instructs, “shut the door.”

I quickly comply. Its pretty quiet in here.

“Um, guys,” Janice asks, confused, “why are we-“

“Girl, **_sleeeeeeep_** …” Kit orders, passing her hand over Janice’s face.

Just like she did in the show, Janice’s eyes float closed. Her head and shoulders droop and her arms drop limply to her sides. How she can fall asleep but stand on her feet, I don’t know.

“She’s still hypnotized,” I say in amazement.

Kit nods. “Janice is extremely suggestible,” my friend agrees. “My dad would have killed to have her in his shows.”

“So… she must be really dumb, then?” I guess stupidly. “I mean-“

Kit slaps my arm. “Janice can **_hear_** you, doofus!” she snaps. “No, being hypnotizable is a sign of high intelligence. Janice here can concentrate and focus her thoughts like a laser. She must have a blitzed the SATs.”

My hypnotist friend turns back to the sexy freshman. “Listen to me, Janice,” Kit says rapidly. “You are relaxing more, going deeper and deeper, letting go even more than you did before. You are returning to that sweet, blissful state of deep hypnosis.”

I watch, completely fascinated.

“There,” Kit says with satisfaction. “Now, Janice, in a moment, I will snap my fingers. When I do, you will awaken, no longer believing you are a conservative Republican. You will return to your normal political beliefs. And for the rest of the evening, you will fondly remember when you were hypnotized to believe the opposite of how you normally view the world.” Kit pauses, and merely snaps her fingers, once.

Janice’s eyes flutter open. She glances about, absently wiping her cheeks. “Hey guys,” she mumbles. “Um, where are we…?”

“She still doesn’t remember,” Kit murmurs to me, in admiration. “Man, she really is suggestible! I wish I had her concentration.”

To Janice, the hypnotist declares, “Janice, when I touch your forehead, you remember everything!” She taps the freshman on the forehead, exactly once. Janice blinks her eyes open.

“…guys…?” the younger woman asks, confusion still knitted on her face.

“Aw, geez,” Kit frowns. “Well, your memory will return later this evening, Janice. You’re completely out of hypnosis now.”

“Hypnosis?” Janice echoes.

But Kit is satisfied. “You’ll be fine. G’wan back to your friends.”

“Oh yeah,” says Janice. “Yeah. They’re downstairs. I know where they are.”

“Okay, go back to your buddies,” Kit urges. “They saw you perform tonight, they’ll coax your memory, and before you know it, you’ll recall everything that you did.”

Janice looks so weirded out right now.

***** ***** *****

Janice vanishes promptly, looking perplexed. I can hear her out in the hallway, moving down the staircase.

“Wow,” Kit marvels, taking out her pack of cigarettes. “It really rare that you see someone who is so hypnotizable, they **_still_** can’t remember their trance experience. Even after you tell them that they can.” She shakes her head. “Really impressive.”

“I don’t get it,” I frown. “Janice is out of hypnosis now? Because she looked pretty spacey.”

“The hypnotic state is a spectrum, dude,” explains Kit, selecting a cigarette. “You drift between waking state and trance state all day long. You know, you’re technically hypnotized, just a little, while watching TV.”

“Creepy,” I remark.

“Eh,” Kit shrugs. “That’s how the human mind works.” She moves to light her smoke.

“Whoa,” I say, remembering that Kit’s cigarette brand is quite stinky. “The frat boys don’t like smoking in here.”

“No?” Kit scowls, looking around. “I thought I saw an ashtray…”

But there’s no ashtray. Kit looks pissed.

“Goddamnit,” she grumbles. “Liberals force nonsmoking laws on everyone, and we all gotta suffer.” Whenever Kit is jonesing for a cigarette, she becomes a snarling monster in no time flat.

“You should get hypnotized to give up smoking,” I tell her.

“I tried,” my friend sighs. “I’m a lousy subject.”

***** ***** *****

Kit rushes down the stairs, still bitching about nonsmoking laws. I realize that I’ve gotta pee, so I duck into the third floor bathroom… which is **_disgusting_**. Ugh! You don’t wanna know.

After I take care of business and wash my hands, I return to the corridor, wondering if I should still leave this party. Madeline’s probably still downstairs. The memory of her betrayal slaps me, and I wince at the sting.

How could that bitch…

Wait a minute. I’m not alone up here.

Standing at the top of the staircase, looking almost small, is Janice. The beautiful young woman gazes at me, a look of curiosity on her face.

I’m caught off-guard. “Hey,” I say carefully.

“Hey John,” Janice replies. She cocks her head to one side. “I thought you were still up here. Can I ask you a question, dude?” She moves toward me.

I’m torn. Part of me is really, really attracted to Janice right now… but another part still sees her as my political opponent. Not sure how to handle this situation.

“Okay,” I allow.

A look of confusion crosses Janice’s beautiful face. “What did your friend Kit mean by, _‘hypnosis?’_ ” she asks. “Like… she was speaking figuratively, right?”

I realize: Janice still has amnesia. She doesn’t remember the show, she doesn’t remember going under .

“No,” I explain, stepping closer. “Kit’s a real hypnotist, she put on a show tonight, and you got hypnotized. For real.”

Janice furrows her brow a little. “No…” she says, puzzled. “I don’t remember that.”

I find myself studying the beautiful freshman. Her expression is slightly blank, her eyes a little unfocused. Is she still slightly hypnotized?

The way Janice is staring at me… its somehow intoxicating. Look how her breasts fill that tee shirt… Her lips are round and soft…

I can’t take my eyes off the woman. Her beauty is really, really disarming. Like, I remember Stacy McMillian from my high school graduating class. Stace was a knockout; cascading blonde hair, green eyes, red lips, gorgeous smile, big tits, perky butt, always walked around in miniskirts. Every time she bent over, half of her male classmates got hard-ons. The joke was that when Stace batted her eyes at you and asked you for a favor, you went weak in the knees and had to do whatever she asked. Stacy caused male brains to jam up like that.

Well, Janice is easily hotter and more beautiful than Stacy on her best day. Jesus, if Janice wasn’t hypnotized, I might be worried **_she_** would put a spell on **_me!_**

“So, uh,” I say awkwardly, “you’re a freshman?”

“Yeah,” replies Janice earnestly. “Only been on campus two weeks. But I remember you.” She takes a step forward.

She remembers me from our radio show, right. My heart falls a little.

“You spoke at Perspective Student Day,” Janice coaxes me. “Last year. Remember?”

I stare at the beautiful freshman, thrown for a loop. Perspective Day…?

Oh. Oh, yeah!

So every March, Dubjay has Perspective Day, where all the high school seniors who got accepted here come and tour the campus. The college puts on shows, lets them sit in on classes, hosts a barbeque, all that shit to entice the fresh meat. Last year, they hosted bunch of student speakers, and I went to give a minispeech on behalf of the CRs. I think I talked for, like, three minutes tops.

“You were there?” I echo, stunned.

“Oh, yeah,” Janice assures me, smiling sweetly. “I totally remember it. You were so eloquent. You talked about all the cool stuff you College Republicans get to do, and what you believe in. Limited government, low taxes, strong national defense, the importance of core social values. You were so grown-up, so charismatic. I was totally putty in your hands.”

I’m flattered.

Maybe its just me, but Janice seems aroused. Perhaps… she thinks she’s a Republican again? Hypnosis can work like that, right?

God, she’s hot.

I have to kiss her. Maybe if I…

“Here,” I say, and extend my hand. How did Kit do this, again? I begin making the “pixie dust” motion with my fingers, right over Janice’s hand.

Right away, Janice’s hand begins floating upward. She doesn’t even seem to be aware of it.

A feel a strange flash of triumph. Janice is still hypnotized! And she’s responding to me!

The sexy woman and I are standing almost toe-to-toe. Her gorgeous brown eyes are gazing into mine, as if she can’t look away. My steady gaze is rehypnotizing her, or something.

Janice’s hand rises higher in the air.

“I know you like getting hypnotized,” I tell her.

“Getting hypnotized is awesome,” Janice automatically responds. She seems tranquilized.

Omigod, I’ve somehow put Janice back into a trance. She now seems entirely passive, waiting for me to command her.

My boner is straining against my jeans. God, Janice is **_hot_**. So fucking hot. I’m standing so close to her, gazing down into her eyes, its like her lovely face is almost filling my field of vision. I can feel the warmth of her body, smell her light perfume, almost sense her big tits touching against my own chest. If I glanced down, I could stare into her cleavage.

Before I know what I am doing, I hear my own voice say, “When I snap my fingers, you will kiss me.”

I click my fingers, once.

Janice shuts her eyes and leans in. Now her body presses against mine, and I feel a rush as her breasts and torso flattens against me. Janice’s soft lips reach for me…

…and touch.

Her mouth is gentle, so gentle. The caress is soft, yet powerful. I’ve kissed lots of girls, but I’ve never experienced something like this… just her lips and my lips, touching and embracing.

I sigh a little, and pull her closer. Our kiss intensifies. I can’t resist opening my jaw a little wider, and I feel her tongue, happy to greet my own. Her body excites me.

My hands circle around Janice’s waist, and I realize that her hand is still hypnotically suspended in the air! She’s obeying all my commands! She can’t resist me.

A feeling a lusty power consumes me. I imagine a hypnotized and naked Janice, lying on a bed, purring, “ _I obey, my lord_ ,” and “ _I want you, my hypnotist_ ,” and “ _Command me, I can’t resist_.” My cock is so excited, I may spout off at any moment.

As if sensing my thoughts, Janice moans, just a little. Her body sags closer to mine. She’s squishing her chest against mine.

I have to fuck her.

Suddenly, nothing else matters. When was the last time I got laid? Jesus, Madeline and I haven’t done it since… early summer? That’s too fucking long.

I break the kiss. “When I snap my fingers,” I gasp into Janice’s hair, “you will follow me.”

Janice actually murmurs, “I will follow you…”

I click my fingers, then take my hypnotized companion by the hand. Her other hand is still floating in the air, beside her, but she seems unaware.

Without the slightest protest, Janice obediently comes with me into the bedroom.

***** ***** *****


	5. In the Bedroom

I shut the door. Janice and I are alone in the bedroom. She’s completely still, gazing at me, a blank look upon her beautiful face.

She’s so hypnotized.

Suddenly, I can’t help myself. I take both of Janice’s hands, then slip my arms around her. “Kiss me,” I order.

Janice automatically obeys. She really leans into this kiss, crushing her shapely body against mine, and lustfully tonguing me as our lips wrestle.

My memory flashes back… I remember _hypnotized Janice competing in the Macarena Contest… thinking she was an alien… obeying every one of Kit’s commands. Becoming a slave to Kit’s instructions… She could be a slave to my instructions._ My hard-on is positively titanium now.

Fuck it. I have to have her. I have to.

I break the kiss, then place a hand on Janice’s shoulder, just like Kit did. “Look into my eyes,” I instruct.

The beautiful freshman gazes up at me, her eyes becoming soft. I can see her will drain from her expression.

Channeling Kit, I say, “I will snap my fingers, Janice. When I do, you will instantly fall into a deep, deep hypnotic sleep.” That sounds like something Hypnotist Kit would say.

Janice’s lips part, just slightly. But she remains transfixed upon my eyes.

“Sleep!” I command, snapping my fingers.

The effect is like magic. Janice’s eyes roll back into her head as her eyelids close and her limp body sags forward. She’s like a marionette with her stings cut. Startled, I grab her and hold her in my arms. She does not resist.

Janice’s weight presses against my body. Oh, God, I can feel her breasts on my arm! She smells so sweet… like coconut and honey.

I am on the verge of losing control right now. This gorgeous, hypnotized woman is waiting for me to fill her mind with my desires. I feel a rush of power and excitement.

“In a moment,” I command her, “I will snap my fingers. When I do, you will awaken, with no memory of being hypnotized. You will want me, and kiss me deeply and with passion. You will love kissing me.” I add, “You can’t resist.”

Will that work? Fuck me, I’m about to cum, I swear.

Holding my breath, I snap my fingers, once.

In my arms, Janice comes to life. She straightens, and her chest brushes against my body. We are toe to toe. She stares into my eyes, collecting her thoughts.

Then: “I have to do this,” she murmurs, and leans forward. Her hands softly grips my jaw, and guides my lips to her mouth.

We kiss.

The kiss is slow, gentle, the lightest of caresses. I melt a little. Janice’s lips are soft, so soft. Kissing her is like kissing a cloud. A sensuous, love-giving cloud. My heart is pounding.

“I have to do this,” Jenna whispers. “I can’t resist.” She presses closer, and kisses me again. Now her arms wrap around the back of my neck.

Oh my God, she’s totally obeying my hypnotic commands. She repeated my words: _I can’t resist._ I’ve got her completely hypnotized!

There’s no way she can’t feel my enormous boner, poking at her from behind my jeans. Her weight is against me, and she’s pressed her hips as close to mine as she can. I can feel her warmth, her legs, her breasts, the soft skin of her arms. The scent of her black, curly hair filled my nostrils.

I circle my arms around her. One hand rises up to embrace her back. The other slides down, resting just above her butt. She doesn’t complain.

We kiss longer. Her tongue plays with mine. I hear her moan, just a little. She’s standing on her tiptoes, just a little, so we can kiss each other.

The kiss pauses. Janice pulls back.

“I don’t know why I did that,” she murmurs. Her huge, brown eyes search mine. “But I loved it.”

“Yeah,” I say in a surprisingly raspy voice.

Up close, her face is so beautiful. I’ve never seen eyes deeper and more expressive.

I can’t stop myself. Gripping her firmly about the waist, I snap my fingers. “Sleep!” I command.

Once again, Janice falls into a deep sleep. I hold her close, and her head rests on the top of my chest.

“And now,” I say, totally thinking with my dick, “I will awaken you again, remembering nothing. This time, you are so fucking horny. You are so horny for me, you can’t think. You only want to fuck me, and for me to fuck you. Nothing else exists within your mind. Nod once if you understand.”

To my amazement, Janice nods, just a little.

Oh my God.

I do exactly one thing: I snap my fingers.

Janice awakens, immediately returning to kissing me. This time, her kisses are almost aggressive. She moans louder.

“Yeah,” she mutters in between kisses. “Yeah, baby… Oh, you make me so hot…”

Its like I’m possessed myself. Its all too much: Janice’s body, her scent, her warmth, her feel, her beauty… She wants me. I want her.

My mouth drifts off hers. I bend my knees so that I can kiss her lower jaw, then wander down her neck.

“Ohhhhh, fuck yeah…” groans Janice. I feel her body tense.

My hands are now on the prowl. They scurry over Janice’s hips, rising up to cup her breasts. Her full, squishy-yet-firm breasts. Oh… my… God!

“Ohhhhhhh!” Janice groans in pleasure. “Oh shit! I have to fuck you. I cannot resist. I have to fuck you.”

Suddenly, my hypnotized playmate is a whirl of activity. She grabs at her own baby tee, shoving my own hands aside. Then she peels the shirt straight up, revealing her bra and one very toned midriff. As the same time, I find myself fumbling for her jean shorts’ button and fly. Within seconds, she’s unzipped.

We shimmy about, and before I know it, Janice is wearing nothing but bra and panties. A look of rapture is on her face. She attacks me, and we are kissing again.

In high school, I thought I got pretty good at unhooking bra straps. With my earlier girlfriends and Madeline, I could unhook them with one hand. Now, its like I’m all thumbs. I fumble at the bra, to no avail.

Meanwhile, Janice is furiously pulling off my belt and then undoing my jeans. The instant my fly is down, she slides one hand into my underwear. I gasp as her fingers caress Little Thor.

“I have to fuck you,” Janice moans. “I cannot resist.”

With a determination that surprises me, she kneels, pulls down my jeans and undies, and then grips me gently but firmly by the balls and my shaft. I feel her warm breath on my tip, and I know what’s coming.

The inside of her mouth is like… I can’t describe it. Its like sticking my dick into velvet, hot, soothing, wet velvet. I grunt as a rush of pleasure sweeps over my body.

Goddamn, I’ll cum in seconds like this! I thought she wanted to fuck me?

“There,” Janice says with satisfaction, and she stand again. I realize; she’s coated my cock with a layer of silva. I’m lubricated.

My hypnotized girl is pulling off her panties. “Do you do anal?” she asks.

Oh! Now I get it.

I **_don’t_** do anal, actually. Anal is… Ugh. Not for me. I just don’t find the butthole sexy, not even the one on Janice’s fabulous ass.

From my expression, Janice learns all she needs to know. “Its okay,” she gasps, unhooking as tossing aside her bra. “I have to fuck you. I cannot resist.”

Completely naked now, Janice turns to one of the frat beds. In a savage motion, she grabs the rumpled top sheet and blankets and shoves it all to the floor. Then, she climbs on to the mattress, remaining on all fours. She angles her butt to point toward me.

“Fuck me doggie-style,” she half-pleads, half-instructs. “Oh, fuck, I’m so horny. You got a condom?”

Oh shit! I nearly forgot. I dive to the floor, reaching for my jeans. The Emergency Condom is in the inside of my wallet… where the fuck is it? I hurriedly grapple with my pants.

“Oh shit,” moans Janice. She rolls onto her back, and begins furiously fingering herself with her eyes closed. “I have to fuck you,” she mumbles aloud. “I cannot resist. I have to fuck you. I cannot resist…!”

I find my wallet. As I scramble to locate the Emergency, my eager eyes wander back to Janice. Goddamn. Women masturbate in all of my porn, but I’ve never actually seen a woman finger herself in real life. It’s… both kind of sleazy and arousing all at once. I’m even hornier than ever.

There! Like a dentist pulling a tooth, I yank the Emergency Condom from my overstuffed wallet. Within seconds, I’m rolling it onto Little Thor, positioning myself before the woman I’m about to fuck.

Janice climbs back onto all fours, positioning herself so that I can see her gleaming pussy. “Fuck me,” she almost barks.

Unable to believe my luck, I grip her hips. They feel smooth and muscular under my fingertips. Then, moving as quickly as I dare, I press my tip just against the outside of Janice.

“Ohhhhhhhhhhh…” my hypnotized lover wheezes, clutching the mattress. “I have to fuck you, I cannot resist, I have to fuck you, I cannot-“

Hearing my hypnotic commands repeated back at me is too much. I push in, just a little.

Little Thor explodes in a celebration of sensation. For an instant, I mistakenly think I’m cumming already. But not yet.

Like I’m hypnotized myself, I feel the irresistible compulsion to move my hips. I thrust all the way into Janice, right up to my balls. Oh, she’s warm and wet! So wet. I mumble something nonesenical, something like, “Oh fuck, oh fuck, you’re so hot, I fucking love fucking you, you’re my hypnotized slave, I love fucking you, oh fuck!”

Now I’m pounding Janice, full ramming speed. As I fuck her and babble, Janice is crying out in a long, unstoppable stream: “Oh, I have to fuck you I cannot resist I have to fuck you I cannot resist I have to fuck you!!!”

Then she cries out, a pleasure-scream of joy. In some weird way, I feel proud. My cock made her climax! It makes me grin in triumph.

“ ** _Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh, FUCK!!!_** ” shouts Janice, leaning back hard against my thrusting. She wants me to thrust in as deep as I can.

I’m happy to comply. I hammer on, loving the sheer waves of delight rippling over Little Thor. Janice feels so warm, so alive!

My mind wanders. I picture future encounters… _Janice is hypnotically compelled to come to my dorm room. I command her to strip. “Yes, master,” she says tonelessly, then dances a striptease for me. I watch, rolling on another condom. Then, I grab her, and pull her towards me. She’s my slave!_

That’s it. I’m cumming.

Ohhhhhhhhh, this is a good orgasm! Oh, nice! I throw back my head, laugh aloud, and slow my thrusting. Little Thor pounds on, full and excited and pumping my boys into the condom tip. Oh, this feels **_glorious!_** Seriously, I feel like a god. I fucking love hypnosis.

“Oh my God,” pants Janice, trembling. “Oh my God.”

My O fades. I start to become aware of the room again: the stale smells, the shabby lighting, the 70s era wallpaper. My hands are cramping a little from holding onto Janice so hard. She’s sweaty, and I can see the beads of perspiration on her muscle-lined back. Her toes are tightly curled up.

I struggle to get control of my breathing.

Suddenly, it hits me… I just wanted to hypnotize Janice to kiss me! Not fuck me! Shit! How did things get so out-of-hand?

The realization is a splash of ice cold water. Oh, fuck! I’m a White, conservative man fucking an African American woman without consent! If this gets out…! There’s no justice for conservatives these days!

I panic.

I slide Little Thor out of Janice for the last time. She moans in pleasure, and drops to the mattress. With a sleepy expression, she smiles up at me.

“Sleep!” I command her, with a snap of my fingers.

Janice immediately drops into trance. Her entire nude body is limp on the ravaged bed.

“Listen to me very carefully,” I tell her, praying desperately that I get this right. “In a moment, I will snap my fingers. When I do, you will open your eyes.” I think quickly, making my plan on-the-fly. “You will put on your clothes, then come with me downstairs. But you will remain in a trance until we get to the ground floor. When we do, you will come out of hypnosis completely, and **_forever forget_** that this ever happened.”

God, I hope that works.

I’m going straight to Hell for sure.

I snap my fingers.

Janice opens her eyes, but they remain blank and unfocused. As if she’s in a dream, she climbs off the bed, and reaches for her underwear. She dresses, never once looking at me or speaking.

I watch her anxiously. Is this working? Fuck, fuck, fuck, I hope so.

As Janice snaps her bra back on, I start to relax. She’s still in a trance. She’s not aware of what she’s doing. What did Kit say? _Janice won’t be able to remember. She’s an exceptional hypnotic subject._

I let out a long, shaky breath.

As Janice steps into her shorts, I start getting dressed myself. I freeze in terror when I reach for my underwear.

_The condom is lying in the floor. **Its empty.**_

Oh, shit!

In a flash, I realize what must have happened.

Janice originally wanted to do anal, which is why she greased up Little Thor with her spit. Then, while I was fucking her with abandon, I never realized that the condom slipped off my oily cock. I pumped my full load right into Janice’s babymaker.

I want to vomit. Like, a lot.

I’ve never had a pregnancy scare before. Shit! What do I do? Hypnotize Janice to…

…to do what? Once she’s showing, there’s no hypnotic command in the world that can paper over what happened here tonight. **_FUCK!!!_**

 _Stop_ , I think at my panicking brain. _Slow down. Take a breath._

One thing at a time, I decide. Conservatives are all about personal responsibility, right? I’ll take what happens next one thing at a time.

Trembling, I reach for my underwear.

***** ***** *****

Janice and I descend the grand staircase together. The entire time, the girl has been silent, gazing straight ahead, her hands by her sides. Now, as we step off the final step, she blinks once.

Her face comes to life.

I cower inside as the beautiful freshman looks up at me. She gives me her usual sly smile.

“Hey there, cowboy,” Janice says in a mocking tone. “You came to this party, too?”

She doesn’t remember!

“I…” I can’t be here anymore. My insides are twisting into a pretzel of guilt. “I gotta go.”

And I turn and hurry from The Castle. I don’t look back.

***** ***** *****


	6. Epilogue:  A Raging Communist/Socialist Liberal

I go into a deep depression almost immediately. Over and over again, I think over my sexual encounter with Janice, and I want to despair. I imagine Janice slowly regaining her memories… Janice remembering the hypnosex… Janice racing to the Health Center, where appalled councilors rush to get her a rape kit… I see myself arrested. Or expelled.

God, what the **_fuck_** was I **_thinking?_**

***** ***** *****

For a week, nothing happens. Classes go by, and I attend, but I’m too sick to my stomach to pay attention. I stop checking my email. I can’t focus on my assignments. I bomb my first two quizzes. Nothing seems to have any point anymore.

“Dude, what’s **_with_** you?” Goober asks me, one day at lunch. “President Bush has a big rally in Ohio next week. You gotta get your head in the game! The Republican Party needs you!”

But I barely hear him. Honestly, the Democrats can sweep every election in November, seize control of the government, impose communism, and rename this country “Socialist Utopia Jerkoffland.” I just don’t care. My own future seems to be over.

***** ***** *****

After a while, I don’t even want to leave my dorm room. What’s the point? I start losing weight. My roommate, Jake, starts asking me if I’m going to shower any time soon.

Finally, one Thursday night, I decide that Jake’s right. I stink. And I need a shave. Hell, its been two weeks since I hypnotized Janice. The Campus Police haven’t come to lock me up. …maybe God’s giving me a massive break?

Still feeling low, I pull myself through the shower, scrape my face, and for extra measure, clip my finger and toenails. Well, I’m somewhat presentable to society, now.

When I return to my dorm room, Jake is out. Oh, that’s right. Its Thursday. Jake has his video game club or something on Thursdays. I won’t see the dude until 1 AM, at the earliest.

Still depressed, I pull on clean underwear and sweatpants.

I’m reaching for my National Review tee shirt when there’s a knock at the door.

…the fuck? I’m surprised. Who is looking me up this late in the day? Its, like, 7:34 PM.

I yank on the shirt, then open the door…

…and **_I nearly shit myself_** when I see Janice standing before me! Her expression is blank, and her arms are limp at her sides.

Oh fuck! My heart nearly explodes in shock.

But… Janice doesn’t say anything. She steps forward, staring straight ahead, ignoring my terror-stricken face. The chick glides right by me, as if I’m not even here.

Despite myself, I find myself admiring her body, once again. She’s wearing full jeans, a cropped shirt that shows off her tight midriff, and plain canvas shoes. Her butt looks great in those jeans. A backpack is hanging over both her shoulders.

As my heartrate slows, I quickly shut the door. I don’t know what’s going on, but the last thing I need is for any of my dormmates to see this!

Janice stops in the middle of the room, then swivels to face me. “I have to fuck you,” she says in a dreamy, toneless voice. “I cannot resist.”

**_What the… HELL?!?_ **

Is she **_still_** hypnotized? How can that be possible??? Did Kit’s magic somehow…??? My brain is whirling and jamming up as it tries to figure this shit out.

And then, a smile cracks Janice’s face. She looks at me directly, and busts out laughing.

“Dude!” she roars. “Oh man, I got you good!”

My face goes even slacker.

“Oh man, oh man,” Janice chortles, pleased with herself, “you should see your face!”

I can’t stand the suspense. “ ** _What the fuck are you doing?!?_** ” I half-cry.

The beautiful freshman giggles. “I’m pulling your leg, dude,” she smirks. “You thought I was hypnotized, didn’t you?”

I don’t know what to say.

“Relax,” Janice smiles at me. “I came to talk. You’re a hard guy to track down, you know that?”

Confused, I lean against the closed door. Is Janice fucking with me? What is going on here?

“Can we talk?” the sexy freshman asks. She straightens the sheets on my bed, then sits. When I don’t move, she pats the mattress next to her, indicating that I’m to plop my butt next to hers.

Janice doesn’t look enraged or indignant. If anything, she seems pleased with herself.

Still sensing a trap, I reluctantly move to sit beside her. We’re separated by two feet of open air.

As I try to compose my thoughts, my guy brain takes over for a second, and I glance down at Janice’s ripe breasts. Ohhh man, she’s got a great rack. I remember cupping those sweet mamas-

 ** _Stop it!_** I think angrily at myself. This girl might be trying to goad you into a rape confession, or something. She’s a liberal, don’t forget. Liberals are all about sexual harassment lawsuits and uptight political correctness and harassing conservatives. Like me.

God, I don’t know what to do.

Looking at me quizzically, Janice adopts her sly smile. “How come you haven’t been at any of the campus College Republican events lately?” she asks. “I went looking for you.”

“I, uh, didn’t feel like it,” I mumble.

“I’ve been looking for you for two whole weeks now,” Janice chides. “I was beginning to think that you had left town.”

“Was thinking about it,” I half-joke.

There’s a weird silence as Janice studies me.

“So… I’m gonna come out and say it,” she pronounces crisply. “I remember everything you and I did together.”

The color drains from my face.

“I remember getting hypnotized by your friend Kit,” Janice goes on. “I totally remember the whole show… although I kinda remember it like it was a dream, not like it actually happened. You know? And then I remember you and Kit putting me back under again.”

I listen, dreading what is coming next.

Janice shakes her head at the memory. “When Kit put me to sleep and told me what to do… Damn! I don’t know what she did, but I totally had to obey her, no matter what. I, like, couldn’t stop myself. Has she ever hypnotized you?”

“No,” I say quickly.

“Well, you should try it,” Janice encourages me. “Its, like, so mind-blowing, I can’t tell you.” She pauses, with a smile on her face. “But when you hypnotized me, dude…”

The color drains from my face.

Janice laughs again. “Well, let’s say, don’t give up your day job.”

This comment throws me for a loop. Before I can sort out my feelings, I blurt out, “Wait… what are you saying?”

“When you used hypnosis on me,” relates Janice, “At first, I think I did go back under. Just a little. But… sorry to tell you this, dude… you’re not Kit. I was never really under that much.”

Strangely, I feel insulted. “But,” I protest, “you went into a trance when I told you to sleep, and you… ah…”

“I **_pretended_** ,” Janice shrugged, a playful smile on her face. “Once I’d been hypnotized for real and seen what it was like, faking a trance was easy. Look.” In a mock-stern voice, she cries, “Sleep!” and snaps her own fingers. Then her face goes blank as she slumps into a fake sleep.

A second or two tick by.

“See?” Janice says, sitting back up. “It was easy. All I had to do was let you give me the stage directions.”

“Waitaminute, waitaminute!” I blabber. “You… No, this makes no sense!”

“No?”

“Why would you fake being hypnotized?” I demand.

Janice looks at me and this time, really laughs. “You don’t know, do you?” she chuckles. “I swear, boys can be so dense sometimes.”

“What?” I almost shout in exasperation.

“Dude!” Janice implores, lightly slapping me on my arm. “I **_wanted_** to have sex with you! Don’t you get it?”

My jaw falls open. A thousand different things to say all try to rush my mouth at once, and they all collide and shatter inside my brain. I’m stunned.

“But…” I manage, “…why?”

Janice grins. “Why? Why does **_any_** girl want to have sex with a guy?” Her expression drops. “You don’t know, do you?” she asks in a flat voice. “You honestly don’t know?”

“No,” I say, if only out of caution.

“I like you, dude!” exclaims Janice. “Fuck me, I’ve always crushed on you! I tried to tell you. Ever since you spoke at Student Perspective Day last year. You looked smart and hot. You care about making a difference in the world. You were passionate. You seemed like a man among the boys. Besides,” she adds with a coy smile, “you have the cutest little dimple in your chin. I have a thing for dimples.”

With amazement, I realize… Janice is flirting with me! Even now, she’s scooted closed, lowered one shoulder, and her fingertips are brushing against my knee.

Holy shit.

“I’ve been trying to find you and ask you out ever since I got to campus,” Janice goes on. “Ever since Day One of Freshman Orientation, I’ve been looking for you. And damn, you could have knocked me over with a feather when I showed up for ‘ _Political Jam_ ’ and **_you_** were the dude they paired me up with!” She grins. “I wanted to ask you out after the broadcast. But you left immediately after the show aired.”

“Yeah,” I say, wincing at the memory.

“And then I saw you at the Bash,” the freshman continues, twirling a lock of hair between her thin fingers. “And I was gonna approach you again. But then, I got hypnotized, and the next thing I know, you and me are in that bedroom, and…” She shrugs, an impish grin on her face.

“Everything we did,” I say, blown away, “all of that, that was just you pretending?”

“Not pretending!” Janice retorts, offended. “I really was that horny. And it was fun, pretending to be your mesmerized little slave girl.” She laughs. “You shoulda seen your face when I wanted anal!”

Janice’s smile drops for a second. “You **_do_** enjoy anal, right? ‘Cause we’re gonna have problems if you don’t.”

Things are going so fast. Am I dreaming this?

“Wait – you – oh man – fuck – hold on – I – can we… You **_enjoy anal?_** ” I blurt out.

“I’ve got a sensitive butthole,” Janice pronounces lightly. “I mean, sex in my pussy is good, but a nice anal ram… Mmm.”

“I… didn’t know women liked anal,” I say stupidly.

“Well, some love it,” Janice says defensively. “Don’t judge me.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” I say, my mind spinning. “Jesus.” I think furiously. “What about the, er…”

“The condom?” Janice can anticipate me. “Relax. I’m not preggers. We’ll have to be more careful next time, though.”

 ** _Next time._** I stare at her, my eyes widening.

“We are gonna spend more time together, right?” Janice asks. Then she slides closer to me, resting her hand on top of mine. “Because I would like that,” she whispers.

The weight that’s been on my chest is dissolving. I almost feel light-headed.

**_She likes me!_ **

“Waitaminute,” I mumble. “I… Hold on.”

Janice’s smile freezes. “What?”

“This can’t work,” I tell her plainly. “I’m a conservative; you’re a liberal.”

Janice stares at me. “So?”

“How are we gonna be able to talk together?” I ask, trying to keep it real. “I mean… Its just not going to work, right?”

“Dude! We’re not the Bloods and the Crips,” Janice says wryly. “We can debate; I don’t mind. And I probably won’t change your mind, and you probably won’t change mine. And that’s okay.” In a softer voice, she adds, “What matters is that we click together. I like you, you like me… let’s have fun **_together_**.”

Well, smack me upside the head. I’m about to date a raging communist/socialist liberal? This is not how I foresaw 2004 going.

So all I do is grin like an idiot. Then, unable to help myself, I lean forward to kiss Janice.

She gives me the most beautiful smile before she kisses me back.

***** ***** *****


End file.
